


Little Motel

by bluebird164



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, Colorado is the shit, Cuddling, Derek understands, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, I promise, I'm Sorry, Kissing, Lots of Angst, M/M, Road Trip, Sad Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski is the major character death, Slow Build, Some Fluff, Stiles is a senior, but it gets better, new realizations and shit, potentially more, this is sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebird164/pseuds/bluebird164
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stile’s dad dies of a brain aneurysm and he needs to get out of Beacon Hills. Everything there reminds him of his father.  Derek decides to take Stiles on a road trip to Colorado when it seems like Stiles can’t take it anymore.<br/>Expect some feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broke

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic about Teen Wolf. I thought about it, and this is what came out. I got the idea of a brain aneurysm from my Nanna's death. It's a cruel thing. It's inspired by the song Little Motel by Modest Mouse.  
> Not beta'd.
> 
> Also, since people were worrying about the warning of major character death, that character is Sheriff Stilinski. I'm not going to kill off anyone else, don't worry guys.

Chapter 1: Broke

 

Stiles didn’t imagine that it would happen this way.  Of all of the multiple scenarios that had played through his head when he thought of the worst, this wasn't one of them.  His dad was a heroic man and a fighter.  He had been though so many life-threatening situations that he it was a miracle that he was alive.  He was not destined to die by something so simple and biological.  He wasn’t supposed to die like this.  Stiles always imagined that his father would die while protecting people from harm, not by a blood vessel bursting in his brain.  Not by a brain aneurysm.

 It just happened so suddenly, on a normal day just like any other.  It was a Sunday, his father’s day off.  They were going to have pizza, a treat from Stiles to his father for not buying any donuts behind his back for an entire week.  They planned on watching some sports, just having a fun, relaxing time.  His dad had gone into the living room to turn on the TV and when he didn’t come back, Stiles ran in to notice his father on the ground.  He had collapsed behind the couch, unconscious.  

“Dad?” No response. “Dad? You’re just messing with me right?” Stiles called to his lifeless father.  There was no response.

With shaking hands, Stiles punched the magic numbers that would hopefully save his father.  He didn’t know what to do. Why hadn’t he paid attention in health class during the CPR section instead of looking at Lydia’s gorgeous hair?  How could he have been so _stupid_ _?_   He couldn’t do anything but wait.  It was painful.  His hands were shaking.  He was shaking his father’s limp body and dry-sobbing.  They arrived 15 minutes later. Too late.  Always too late.

His dad had a brain aneurysm.  It had already progressed too much they said as they sped to the hospital.  Stiles was in a trance for the entire ride.  He was numb as he sat in the room that smelled of antiseptic with a touch of death.  People were coughing and moaning and he ignored it all.  His eyes couldn’t focus on anything.  He couldn’t feel anything.  He was in a state of shock and denial.  He didn't believe it.  He still expected his dad to walk out of the double doors that led to the emergency room with a smile on his face.  No emotion.  No feeling.  No pain.  Yet.  Just hope.

 His father died at 11:47 pm in the hospital.  He couldn’t understand the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth.  He just stared at the doctor’s chapped lips and tired eyes, expecting him to take it back. _Take it back._

But the doctor didn’t. He just gave him ‘ _I’m sorry for you_ ’ look and patted him on the shoulder.  The contact seared his skin.  The words tore his world apart.

His mind was reeling.  Scott was there, bursting through the doors to sit by his side.  He knew this.  And so was Mrs. McCall. What nice people.  Scott just sat there in silence next to him and had an arm slung around his shoulders, trying to comfort his shocked friend.  Stiles couldn’t feel it.  Scott’s mom just kept on giving him these covert sad looks with puffy red eyes as she ran about trying to do her duties.  Stiles could see Scott’s tears in his peripheral vision.  To see him like that cut him deep.  Why can’t he cry? _Why can’t he?_ Is he a heartless monster?  Why can't he cry about his father dying?  _Why?_

He couldn’t feel anything.  He felt hollow and abandoned.  His emotions had taken a vacation; numbness had taken over long ago.  He got to see his dad around midnight.  When he saw the lifeless body lying on the hospital gurney, he just started to shake all over and become cold.  His dad had been alive and happy only a few hours ago, waiting for the pizza to arrive at the door. They had been lightly bickering about food choices.  He felt sick.  The shaking wouldn’t stop.  He touched his father’s cold cheek and the shaking wouldn’t cease.  He had to get out of there. Had to get out of there _now_.

He knew the hospital layout from all of the times that he had played there with Scott when they were kids.  He told Scott that he was going to the bathroom and quickly left the horrific waiting room.  Stiles sneaked out one of the service doors and ran.  Just ran and ran and ran.  He ended up at his house and couldn’t look at it.  The lights were still on.  He fumbled with the keys in his clumsy hands then shoved them  in the door.  His house was now a treacherous land.  He ran up the stairs and grabbed his lacrosse duffel.  Threw his gear out and shoved the necessities in.  Toothbrush, shirts, pants, boxers, socks, flannels, Adderall, books, money.  One last glance.  His entire life in one sad room.  He couldn’t care less, he needed to get out of the house, the house that reminded him of his dad in every nook and cranny.  The remote was on the floor where his dad had dropped it.  The pizza box was on the counter, untouched.

Down the stairs.  Door slammed.  Car unlocked.  Keys start the car.  He pulls out, ignoring the police cruiser that was also in the driveway.  His hands were shaking the entire time.

He drove and drove.  It felt like forever.  He drove to his only refuge: the woods.  The woods were his sanctuary.  The woods knew him.  Nobody gave him pitying looks there or pats on the shoulder.  He could just curl up there and be at peace.  Jeep on paved road.  Jeep on dirt.  Jeep on crunchy leaves.  He got out and started to walk through the serene forest.  He walked for about 20 minutes before he found a small alcove in the hollow of a tree.  He lowered himself on the spot, still shaking.  Numbness overtook him.  He curled into a ball and shivered.  He could feel the twigs poking through the fabric of his hoodie.  He felt exhausted and tired.  He wanted to forget everything.  He fell asleep to the sound of crunching leaves and a dark figure in his vision.

 


	2. Workin' On Leavin' The Livin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is basically sassy gay friend but without the scarf and much more intimidating.

Chapter 2 – Workin’ on Leavin’ the Livin’

_Stiles. Stiles._   ** _Stiles._**  - A voice is repeating in his head, a voice that sounds familiar but distant.

He chose to ignore it.

_Stiles._

Still ignoring.

 ** _Stiles._** He feels rough hands finding purchase on his red hoodie and shaking his body with an intense force. He wanted to be left alone. He  _needed_ to be alone. "Leave me alone." he croaked out with a wince at the sound of his grating voice.  He lifts up a limp hand to bat the person away but they just pin that hand back to his side with a single swipe.  The shaking stopped but instead turned to incessant shoving. "Where does this person get off at?" He whispered in indignation.  After about two minutes of this, he finally cracked open his eyes to see a very angry Derek staring at him and manhandling him.

“W-what the _hell_ Derek?” he manages to blurt out after opening and closing his mouth like a fish for a few seconds. “Why are you here?”

“I should be asking you the same question _Stiles_.  What the hell are you doing in the middle of the woods _sleeping?_   Do you want to die out here from the cold? It’s late October and the temperature drops at night.” Derek pulls his hands back to his own person and rocks back onto his heels.  Stiles actually misses the heat.

“I don’t want to go back to that house, that home.  It’s too much.” Derek gives him a puzzled look. “Oh, that’s right; you have the modern communication commodities of the _Amish_.” Derek looks affronted and slightly insulted. “My father…” He chokes on his words.

“What Stiles?”

“He…he _died.”_ He started shaking uncontrollably again.  “I don’t want to go back.  People are just going to look at me sadly and I don’t want that.  I got enough of those looks when my mom passed away.  I don’t want to go back to a house that reminds me of my dad in every corner.  I just want to get away.”

Derek just sat there and gave him this deep and brooding look that Stiles had seen time and time again.  After a moment, he reached out with his hands to still Stiles again.

“What do you plan on doing then?” Stiles just gave him this look. He actually hadn’t given it any thought at all.  He didn’t know where the hell he was going to go. “Do you just plan on giving up on high school and life and just go wandering?  Really Stiles? You only have half a year of high school left before you graduate.”

“I’ll make it up when I get back.” Stiles replies shortly.

“Look at your life; you have a whole future ahead of you.  You have to stay in school and graduate.”

“Where the hell will I live? I won’t be able to afford the house with dad gone and as much as I love Scott, living at his house will be even more painful with their pity-filled glances and consoling selves.”  He didn’t know. He honestly didn’t know.  He just wanted to go back into his fetal position and lay there for the remainder of his life. 

His dad was gone.  He wouldn’t be coming back.  Stiles did so much for his dad in order to make sure that he was healthy and that he would live a long life.  But a blood vessel bursting in the brain was enough to take his dad out and it scared him.  How many more important people in his life will die before him? Scott? Mrs. McCall? Lydia? Even Derek.  He didn’t know.  He just didn’t know.

***Derek’s POV ****

Looking at Stiles was like looking at his past self after the fire.  He had done the exact same thing.  Gone into the forest, curled up, went to sleep.  He knew what it was like and seeing the consistently energetic Stiles broken and sad like this tore at his heart.  He never wanted another person to experience what he had gone through with the loss.  All the loss and pain.  At least he had Laura when he went through it.  Stiles had no one who he could truly rely on.  Scott was growing distant and he was Stile’s best friend.

Stiles just sat in the leaves, curled in on himself with his knees up to his chin and his arms circling around them and clenching on the fabric on the opposite arms.  His eyes had bags under them and he was pale, very pale.  He looked so vulnerable and lost.

He felt the need to help this kid out.

“Stiles.” No response. “ _Stiles._ Get up.”

Stiles looked up at him in shock “Wait what?”

“You heard me”

“Where the hell am I going to go?  Not your house.  That place is depressing as hell.” Stiles mumbled out.  He started to curl into himself again but Derek shot out an arm and pulled Stiles onto his feet in one swift movement.

“We _are_.  But only temporarily.” Stiles gave him a skeptical look.  “Just trust me, we’ve been through so much shit in the past two and a half years that you have no reason to doubt me now.”

“Okay.” Stiles just looked down at the autumn leaves as he let Derek wrap an arm around his shoulders in order to guide him back to the jeep.

They walked in silence.  Derek could feel the beating of Stile’s heart and the shaking of his body through the contact and he heard Stiles mumbling a small tune to himself. _In heaven, everything is fine.  In heaven, everything’s alright. In heaven, everything is fine…_

When they finally got to the jeep, Derek opened the passenger door and lifted Stiles into the seat.  He didn’t say a word to Derek which surprised him.  He went around to the other side of the car and got in, grabbing the keys from Stiles outstretched hand.  Stile’s hand was cold as ice when their fingers brushed each other from the exchange.  He wanted to warm that hand up but he couldn’t.  Stiles would just get mad and not understand.  With a sigh, Derek took off his leather jacket, threw it Stiles, put the key into the ignition, and drove off to the decrepit ruins that he called his house.

****Stiles POV ***

Why was Derek doing this for him?  He didn’t deserve shit.  His jacket too. Derek loved his jacket.  But its not like Stiles didn’t like it – he was glad for the warmth.

The car ride was quiet as they drove over the natural terrain.  Derek looked strained and sad in the driver’s seat, his body tense.  Stiles didn’t want to see Derek like that, so he glanced out the window at the blurred foliage.  He wanted to forget.  Forget the hell that his life had become.  Glancing at the clock, he noted that the time was 6:00 a.m., why was Derek out so early?

With the rhythmic bumping of the jeep and the warmth of the leather jacket, he drifted off into a restless sleep filled with images of his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words that Stiles were mumbling in Italics when they were walking through the woods is from the song Workin' on Leavin' the Livin' by Modest Mouse. (Its also from Eraserhead, but that's for another time)


End file.
